"And I will not omit any," said the notary.
Nevertheless, he grew so impatient that they left too early. Before the building stood about a dozen persons, evidently waiting for those in the hall; while from within there reached them a buzzing noise, at times shouts, applause, and the sound of the stamping of feet.
"What kind of meeting is it?" asked the doctor.
"Really, I do not know," answered Gronski. "Now we are full of that. There are political meetings, social conferences, literary lectures, and God knows what else."
"I envy Warsaw," exclaimed the doctor.
"There is not much to envy. At times it chances that something deserves attention, but oftener such absurdities take place that one feels ashamed."
"Oh, they are already leaving," observed the notary; "but why are they shouting so?"
"Let us wait; that is some kind of a brawl," said Gronski.
In fact it evidently was a brawl, for from the roomy vestibule there rushed out on the wide stairs between ten, and twenty men, without caps or hats, who in the twinkling of an eye, formed a disorderly heap. In this heap, hands, canes, and umbrellas moved violently, and these motions were accompanied by a shrill shriek. Afterwards from the gyrating mob, shoved by tens of arms, shot out, as if from a sling, somebody, with bare head and tattered coat, who, leaping from the stairs, turned a somersault at the doctor's feet in such a manner as almost to tumble him and the notary on the ground.
"Swidwicki!" exclaimed Gronski with astonishment.